


Out of The Woods

by DarknessAroundUs



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Crime, F/M, Fake Dating, Robin Hood AU, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26128195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarknessAroundUs/pseuds/DarknessAroundUs
Summary: The first time Jughead steals something, he’s five. He doesn’t know what he’s doing at the time, really. All he knows is that he’s hungry, the chocolate bars are at eye level, and his mom is fussing with her wallet above him.The first time Betty steals something, she’s thirteen. Jughead’s come to school without lunch three days in a row.A Robin Hood AU with a whole lot of Robin's not named Robin, and some fake dating.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, Veronica Lodge/Sweet Pea
Comments: 158
Kudos: 160
Collections: 8th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A Huge thank you to KittiLee who talked me into this, my first multi-chapter in almost a year (although it's going to be a short one, I promise). 
> 
> I'm not sure about the actual chapter count (sorry), this is just an educated guess.
> 
> This was written originally for my fandom anniversary, but that came and went on July 23rd, but that's kind of how 2020 works I guess.

The first time Jughead steals something, he’s five. He doesn’t know what he’s doing at the time, really. All he knows is that he’s hungry, the chocolate bars are at eye level, and his mom is fussing with her wallet above him. 

He takes three, quickly slipping them into the baggy pockets of the coat that doesn’t fit. The one his mother fished out of the donation bin in the church parking lot.

No one notices his actions, not with his mother shouting at the cashier, the cashier shouting back, and a moment later there’s the thump of groceries being left on the counter and Gladys’s hand grabbing the collar of his coat, tugging him by it out of the store. 

“Stay gone, fleabag,” the cashier shouts at them, from the safety of the other side of the glass door. 

On the bus Jughead hear’s Gladys’s stomach rumble, and he offers her one of the chocolate bars. 

“Not too bad, kid,” she says, biting into it. Later at home, she cooks him the formerly frozen steaks she slipped into her bra. It’s a good day, really. 

The first time Betty steals something, she’s thirteen. Jughead’s come to school without lunch three days in a row. 

A year ago she would have packed extra for him, but now Alice watches her like a hawk, making her measure out the amount of mayo she smears on the whole wheat thin-sliced bread. There’s barely enough for Betty to make it through fourth period, never mind Jughead. 

Her allowance has been non-existent ever since Alice caught her buying burgers for herself and Jughead at Pop’s and cut her off, and so she needs another way forward, a better way.

One afternoon, she’s stuck at the Highschool waiting for Polly to be finished with cheerleading practice and drive her home, when she notices Cheryl’s Gucci purse on the bleachers next to her.

Cheryl and Polly are occupied with bickering over who does the best splits, so Betty leans over and casually slips forty dollars out of the purse. It’s daylight and she’s in plain sight, but no one notices.

Betty struggles with sleep that night, but a week passes and no one mentions the missing money to her. She’s pretty sure Cheryl doesn’t even notice. 

Jughead has hot lunch every day of the week. 

Betty develops rules for her theft. She donates everything she steals, either through gifts or to charity. She never steals from Mom and Pop shops, or anyone who isn’t vastly wealthy. 

She gets much better at sleight of hand. Alice might think that she’s practicing putting on make-up in her vanity, but that’s only because it’s what she wants Alice to think.

It’s not until both Jughead and Betty are seventeen, that they discover that this gift for theft, is something they share. 

Jughead was booted from Riverdale over to Southside High at 15. It was a mixed blessing. There was no one to make fun of his donation bins coats, but there also was no generous friends who shared lunches and old jokes with him.

He tries to stay in touch with Archie and Betty for a few months. Betty is quite adamant about their weekly meet ups at Pop's, and usually Jughead is not one to turn down a free burger and milkshake (because Betty always insists on paying). But it becomes too hard to be around them, too much of a reminder of what he can never have.

Southside High is crowded and underfunded, there’s always a fight happening somewhere.

He found his crew pretty quickly when he caught them breaking into the house across the street from the Andrews. 

Needless to say that was a spectacular failure of a robbery, although somehow Fangs ended up bringing a dozen eggs home to his grandmother.

By the time Jughead was seventeen, he and his merry band were a well oiled machine, or at least one that had never gotten arrested. The Southside also has a new community center, a well funded food bank, and for the first time in almost a decade, three thriving local businesses that aren’t bars. 

When the Serpents run into Betty on a job, they are robbing a house that’s larger than Southside High, complete with indoor and outdoor pools. 

“Let’s head upstairs. There’s nothing worth shit down here,” Sweet Pea says, sweeping his arms over the expanse of living room, that could double as a soccer field.

Jughead’s fairly certain the painting of a fire hydrant that is hanging over the mantle is worth half a million easily, but their fence can’t handle paintings, and it’s too big to fit on the back of their bikes anyway. It’s not like you can Uber away from a robbery. 

“Fine. Let’s go upstairs,” Jughead says with a sigh. It’s not like Sweet Pea really needs his permission. He’s already skipping up them two at a time. Pea’s always like a kid at Christmas during robberies, the opposite of Fang’s who behaves like it’s the first day of school, and sulks through the majority of it.

There’s a lot to steal upstairs. There are two whole boxes full of expensive looking jewellery, and a crap ton of electronics, and that’s usually what they go for. Between the office and master bedroom, they almost get more than they can haul out. 

Still for some unknown reason Jughead finds himself in what could only be the kids room, which features a six foot tall giraffe and a pink panda bear the size of JB.  
He opens the closet, and there, crouched in a corner, eyes as green as they ever were, is Betty Cooper. 

He hasn’t seen her since she was 15. Or at least not up close. From a distance, sometimes he’ll glimpse her on the street or in Pop’s. He always turns the other way. 

She represents too much of what he can’t have. Even now it pains him to see her, or talk to her. 

He’s about to slam the door closed on her, when he suddenly realizes he’s not on Elm street or in Pop’s. He’s in a house he broke into, and the only reason she would be there was if she broke in too.

So instead Jughead opens the door and turning on his Southside persona, the one he keeps polished for occasions such as this one he says, “What the hell are you doing here, Betty Cooper?” 

Instead of sinking deeper into the shadow of the closet, Betty stands up, to her full height, which is only a few inches shorter than his and says, “It looks like we’re here for the same reason Jughead Jones.”

Her voice is calm, unwavering, knife sharp. 

He can’t really believe that answer though. He’s here to feed himself and his neighbours, Alice still goes two towns over to shop at a more high end grocery store. 

But before he can say anything, Pea strides in the door, spots Jughead and then Betty and says, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” each fuck sounding a little angrier.

So Jughead, in spite of everything, kisses Betty. Not the gentle chaste kiss he’d imagined for years, but the solid press of someone more confident than himself. 

Even after all this time Betty must trust him, because her lips meet his, soft and full. 

When Jughead pulls away, Pea’s shooting daggers at both of them.

“What the fuck is a Northsider doing here?” Pea asks.

Jughead shrugs and smiles, hoping he can pull off this bluff the same way he pulled off the kiss, “She’s our man on the inside.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million apologies for the long delay! I'm back and there shouldn't be another one. Thank you for the very enthusiastic feedback on Chapter 1. 
> 
> Chapter 2 is edited by the brilliant KittiLee.

As they flee the scene, Betty clinging to Jughead on the back of the bike, he wonders what he’s gotten himself into. Jughead can feel the fury coming off Sweet Pea, even two lanes over. 

“I’m sorry,” Betty shouts into his ear. He shakes his head. 

This isn’t the place to talk, the road loud around them. He just wished he knew more of what was going on. It seemed clear that she’d been robbing the place as well, the why of it was just something he did not understand. 

Betty grew up in a nice house, on a safe street, with parents that paid their utility bills and put food on the table. She didn’t have a father rotting away in jail, or a mother who seemed determined to land herself there. 

Jughead’s trying not to judge Betty for stealing when she doesn’t have to, but he can’t stop himself entirely. He didn’t choose this life, but she apparently did. It makes him angry, in spite of his best intentions.

There’s only one moment of privacy between them, as they slip off the bike to join the others in Pea’s trailer. 

“Just play along,” he says, quietly. She can only nod yes. Pea is staring at both of them from the trailer steps. 

Betty follows Jughead up the stairs. He swears he can feel her nerves through the leather of his jacket. She sits down beside him on the old worn out sofa, the one Jughead’s spent a hundred sleepless nights on. 

Jughead shuffles a little, so his thigh touches hers. He needs to sell the myth that they’re a couple after all. Betty seems to pick up on his cue, leaning her body into his side. It feels reassuring and natural there, even with Pea shooting daggers at them. Fangs seems less concerned, sprawled back in the laz-e-boy.

“What the fuck, Jughead?” Sweet Pea shouts, “You need to tell us what’s going on - right now!”

“Why? It seems pretty obvious,” Fangs answers before Jughead can pull together a sentence. “Jughead’s in love.”

Jughead snorts his response, and against his side Betty startles.

“Betty’s been helping us the last few months,” Jughead says. “She’s got connections on the Northside. It’s easy for her to get security codes from the rich kids she goes to school with.”

That last sentence is just a guess on his part, but there must be a bit of truth to it because Betty’s jawline relaxes a little. 

“And you didn’t tell us?” Pea shouts.

“You hate Northsiders,” Jughead answers honestly. “I didn’t see the point.”

Fangs howls with laughter. Pea shakes his head, looks prepared to fight and then just shrugs his shoulders.

“So Blondies the reason we’ve had such an easy time of it the last little bit?” Pea asks skeptically.

“Yes,” Betty says, speaking up for the first time, startling Jughead when he feels her sitting up straighter while still pressed firmly against him.. “I mean tonight, weren't you a little surprised by the complete lack of blaring alarms.”

“I just figured rich people were getting lazy.” 

Fangs offers up a half hearted laugh at Pea’s remark. Jughead glances at Betty. The expression on her face makes it clear that whatever she did tonight was not easy. Although he’s glad that she doesn’t say anything about it.

“Welcome to the team,” Fangs says, extending a hand. 

“Hell no,” Pea says, “It ain’t that easy to join us. We don’t even know her motives. All we know is she lives on the Northside and has terrible taste in men.”

“I’ve only been dating Jughead for a couple weeks,” Betty says. “But we’ve been friends for years. I wanted to help.”

If Jughead didn’t already know it was a lie, he wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at her. She looked so calm and composed.

Jughead squeezes her thigh, he’s not sure if it’s to offer her comfort, or to sell the message that they’re dating, but he has to do something. It feels disorientating to have her within arms reach, after pushing her away for so long. 

“I messed up,” Jughead lies. “She found that Glamergé egg we stole from the Lodges, and failed to pawn, in my closet and offered to help. She wants to support the Southside.”

Pea rolls his eyes and then says, “You should have fucking told us. But it’s not like we can backtrack now.”

Jughead puts every ounce of effort into not conveying his relief. He’s sure Betty’s doing the same. 

“Good,” Betty says, with a confidence that must be false. “Should we catalog the haul?” 

Pea gives her a weary glance, and then shrugs. Fangs starts unloading the take from his backpack. 

The floor is soon covered with jewelry and small electronics. A lot of it is the sort of generic untraceable stuff, their pawn Penny likes the best. 

Only after they are done does Betty empty her own backpack out. It’s a very different haul, because it’s all silverware. 

“Why’d you take that?” Fangs asks, curiously.

“It’s worth a lot on TheRealReal.” Betty says, as if they should know what the hell that is. Their confusion must show on their faces because Betty clarifies, “It’s a high end consignment website.” 

“Those exist?” Pea asks, although Jughead can see that Fangs is already pulling it up on his phone. 

“There are silverware sets worth 4,000 dollars on here!” Fangs exclaims. 

“This set is worth more like 11,000 dollars,” Betty says calmly. “I’ve been donating the money to the foodbank, and the community center.”

Fangs gave a low whistle and even Pea looked a little impressed.

Jughead can’t help but admire Betty’s strategy. He and the guys were good at the actual thieving, but shitty at turning whatever they get into actual money. They’d never made 11,000 dollars off a single haul, not even close. But it hadn’t seemed to matter in the scheme of things, as long as there were more jobs to do.

His earlier judgment of Betty stealing when she didn’t have to, fades away. Jughead, Fangs, and Pea have long taken credit for their role in revitalizing the Southside. They just never bothered tracking the numbers. Things seemed to be improving at a faster rate than they’d predicted. Now Jughead realizes they should have known better to just assume that it was solely their actions that were making the difference. 

He’s not sure why Betty started thieving, but he can tell now that her intentions, as always, were good.

“So from now on you’ll just work with us directly,” Fangs said. “No need to lurk in the shadows.”

“Kiddy closets,” Pea clarifies. 

Betty smiles brightly and nods. Jughead wishes desperately that he could read her mind and tell what she was thinking. Was she better at panicking without showing her cards than he was?

“I’ve got to get going,” Betty says. “I have curfew.”

“Of course you do!” Pea rolls his eyes. 

“I’ll take you home,” Jughead says. They have a lot to talk about after all, and it’s a long walk back to the northside.

Fangs wolf whistles as they leave. Jughead tries not to notice Pea’s fake gagging. He can’t take any of this too personally. Neither of them have friends that are Northsiders, and the last time Fangs dated anyone, Jughead and Pea dished out a lot of shit about it.

Betty’s quiet as she gets on the back of the bike. The motorcycle makes it to Elm Street twenty minutes later. Even at the stop lights, where noise was not an issue, they didn’t speak. 

“Do you want to come in?” Betty asks. “I don’t actually have a curfew.”

“We could always just sort out this whole mess in the cold,” Jughead quips, and then he adds more seriously, “Your parents won’t mind?”

He doesn’t remember much about Hal, besides the fact that the man seemed to prefer the garage to the house. Jughead does remember Alice, and all of her anger issues rather vividly. She didn’t like him back then, she certainly wouldn’t like him now.

Betty shrugs, “Dad moved out a couple years ago, mom likes to drink herself to sleep by nine.”

It’s a different life than Jughead imagined Betty leading. He remembers the one Thanksgiving he spent at the Coopers as a 12 year old. The house had looked like a Martha Stewart set and Alice had been the perfect hostess, even if the next time he visited she wouldn’t even make eye contact with him.

Jughead follows Betty up the path. They still take their shoes off in the hall, so some things haven't changed.

Betty leads the way to the kitchen. She doesn’t switch on the overhead, instead turning on the under cabinet lighting. It casts a soft glow throughout the room.

As the child of an alcoholic, Jughead can’t help but notice the large defacto bar that’s taken over part of the kitchen, but he knows better than to mention it.

“Do you want a drink?” Betty asks.

For a second Jughead’s sure he’s ended up in an alternative universe where Betty Cooper drinks. Then he reminds himself that he’s the jerk that opted out of her life for years, with the idea of “protecting” her. An idea that’s becoming more and more absurd by the moment.

“Sure.”

“Hot chocolate, or coffee?” Betty offers, arching a brow. He’s pleasantly surprised by the lack of alcohol in the options. When he doesn’t answer immediately she says, “Hot chocolate is my after heist drink of choice, and I make it with real whipped cream, but if sugar isn’t your thing, coffee’s easy to make.”

“I never turn down real whipped cream,” Jughead points out.

“Good to know,” Betty winks back, and Jughead has to remind himself there is no audience, and thus no legitimate reason to kiss her.

Betty busies herself with melting real chocolate in milk while Jughead watches. 

“So why’d you start stealing?” he finally asks. “You don’t have any reason to.” 

“At the time, my reason was you. You were always starving at school, and I wanted to do something about it.”

Jughead remembers Betty buying him a lot of lunches, groceries sometimes too. He’d always say yes, pretend to himself it wasn’t charity if he didn’t ask. He’d always assumed she’d used her allowance though. 

Although now Jughead was beginning to suspect that even back then, there was a lot about her home life that Betty didn’t talk about.

“Fair enough. Aren’t you going to ask me how I got into it?”

Betty shrugs, “The answer is probably because you were hungry.”

Jughead grins, “I guess we can both blame my stomach for our wicked ways.”

Betty laughs at that, then stirs the milk mixture. “After you left for the Southside, I started donating to the foodbank instead. It seemed like a good way to reach you. I wanted to keep supporting you one way or another.”

There’s a stabbing feeling in Jughead’s stomach that feels an awful lot like guilt when he hears this. He made a decision that affected both of them, and it’s starting to feel more and more like the wrong one.

It’s true that he’d used that foodbank sometimes, but kids couldn’t go on their own and Gladys was terrible at showing up when needed, FP was even worse. 

The Serpent’s hadn’t really donated to them because of their limitations, and because the foodbank seemed to be doing just fine without them. Now Jughead knew why. It wasn’t some abstract mystery donor, or state grant, but the person who was now pouring hot chocolate into two mugs that looked a lot like gnomes.

“Your mom bought novelty mugs!?!” Jughead exclaimed. He doesn’t know why he finds this almost as shocking as discovering Betty in a strangers closet.

“A lot has changed around here, but not that much. I keep these in my room most of the time.” Betty answers, removing a bowl of whipped cream from the fridge and scooping giant dollops on top of both mugs. Now it looks like the gnomes are wearing hats. 

Betty hands him a mug and he takes a solid sip, his whole body filling with warmth and sweet. It’s a good feeling. He can see why this is her post robbery ritual. His has historically involved drinking too much and passing out on Sweet Pea’s sofa. 

ThIs is better, he suspects, although it also hits him at this moment that Betty is alone in this. He’s got a team to celebrate and vent with, and she’s been doing this for a long time on her own.

“Does Archie know?” he blurts out.

Betty rolls her eyes, “Archie would have told everyone in about five minutes, even if he wanted to keep it a secret.”

“But you’re still friends right?”

Betty shrugs then takes a particularly long sip, that leaves her nose with a smudge of cream on it’s tip. “It’s hard to be too close to anyone with this secret.”

“So no boyfriend?” 

“Not outside of my fake one,” Betty says with a wink. 

Jughead laughs at that and before he can help himself he reaches out and wipes the smudge of whipped cream off her nose.

“It could be real,” he says, and he’s not sure who he shocks more, her or himself.

“You barely know me.”

“I know your secrets.” 

Betty laughs, her cheeks growing a little pink. “You know one of my secrets. Two, if you count my mom.” 

Jughead files away the fact that Alice’s problem’s are private rather than public knowledge, to deal with on a later date. “The real question is do you want to date me or not?”

He’s surprised he’s being so bold about this. It’s not like the hot chocolate is spiked. But he feels so confident in his actions. Maybe it’s just the natural post heist high that’s feuling him.

Betty’s really blushing now. Her cheeks red, her eyes bright. “Why not?” she says, and in the moment, that’s permission enough for him to close the space between them and kiss her. 

This time the kiss is softer, tentative in a way it couldn’t be before. He’s able to notice more details about it. Like the slight scent of her lipstick, and the way he can feel the heat of her against them. 

Jughead pulls back slowly, and he notices that her eyes are still closed. There’s something reverential about her expression, or her pose, as if what they were doing was sacred. 

Jughead's kissed girls before, more as a strategy to blend in than anything else, but it didn’t feel like this. It felt like letting off steam, not fulfilling a rite. 

He’d always assumed if he and Betty became friends again, it would take them years to get to where they were before he wrote her out of his life. Clearly he underestimated her capacity to forgive or love, or both. 

Still he has something he has to stay before anything else happens, “I’m sorry I avoided you for so long. I’m sorry I stopped being your friend.”

A look crosses Betty’s face, one he can’t parse, and he’s worried she’s going to change her mind. Instead she shakes her head and says, “Just don’t do it again. Forgiveness won’t happen next time.”

This time she initiates the kiss, her arms wrapping around his body, as she presses her mouth against his.

Time moves differently after that and by the time they return to the hot chocolates, Jughead’s is very cold. 

“So I guess we’re working together now?” he says, putting his newly cold mug of hot chocolate back on the counter.

“Is that how you’re choosing to phrase it?” Betty says, wiggling her eyebrows. He can’t help but kiss her again for that move. 

“I meant we’re robbing places together now.” 

Betty nods, laughs, and asks, “How do you guys go about planning that?”

“Once a month we drive around on our bikes a bit and pick a place where it looks like no one is home.”

Betty visibly winces at that answer, but stays quiet. The next day, when all four of them meet up at Fang's trailer, it becomes very clear to Jughead as to why. 

She has a color coded binder full of meticulous notes on all the houses she’s even considering breaking into. Some have floor plans and security codes attached, others have dossiers on the family members. 

Fangs whistles when he sees it. 

“Nerd,” Pea coughs/speaks into his hand, but even then his admiration is clear. 

Jughead for his part pretends like he’s seen the binder before, but not very well. He’s pretty sure Fangs noticed, but there’s not enough time to really pay attention to that because they’re all exchanging stories of their most outlandish near misses with the cops and security teams. One of Betty’s involves pretending to be a housecleaner. 

Pea goes easier on Betty after that, and after their first robbery together, a big house over on Ginko street, Pea actually becomes friends with her. Jughead thinks Pea texts Betty almost as much as he does, which is a considerable amount. 

Jughead had always thought of the divide between the South and Northside as impossibly big, but now that Betty was crossing the lines to hang out at the trailer, and he was visiting Riverdale High to sneak in lunch hour kisses, the fact that the divide was more mental than physical was made more clear to him. 

Some places, like Pop’s for example, had actually changed sides over the years, not in reality, but in popular opinion. Right now Pop’s was northside property, but just two years ago it had been thought of as southside. Jughead even had The Register articles to back him up. 

There’s still moments of tension called by the division. When Jughead runs into Archie for the first time in ages near the football field, Archie acts as if Jughead’s presence in Betty’s life is an act of violence. It’s pretty funny, actually. 

Gladys is the other individual that’s not particularly happy with Jughead’s relationship, but Jughead has lots of practice ignoring her.

It’s during third period that Jughead hears the first rumor of the bad news. At the time he’s quick to dismiss it. But by the time school’s out, Pea’s slamming lockers shut and staring Freshman into submission.

Hermione Lodge, in a move that could only be described as highly suspicious has been chosen as the new director of the Southside Food Bank. 

“It’s bullshit,” Fang says when they all meet up in Fox Forest that night. They were supposed to break into a house that night, but now no ones in the mood. 

“I think it’s more of a hostile takeover,” Betty clarifies.

“Potato, Pah-tah-to,” Sweet Pea says.

“Actually the second pronunciation was made up for the song,” Jughead points out, unhelpfully apparently, because Sweet Pea just scowls at him. 

“So they’re just going to steal all the money we put into the place?” Fangs asks.

“They’re going to try,” Betty says. “But we’re going to stop them.” 

It’s moments like this where Jughead feels in every way in awe of how Betty’s mind and heart works. How she’s equally capable at calculus and break-ins, as well as vengeance and kindness.

“You have a binder for that, sweetheart?” Pea quips.

Betty shakes her head, “Not yet. But the first step has to start tonight.”

“Really?”

“We have a party to attend,” Betty says. 

“Southside or northside?”

Betty raises an eyebrow. “Northside of course. Veronica’s throwing a party at the Pembrooke, and we’re crashing.”

Pea looks pleased for the first time all day. Fangs looks intrigued. If Jughead didn’t know Betty as well as he did, he’d think she was feeling confident. 

But he’d held her last month, as she cried in his arms about their almost failed break-in at a lakeside mansion, so he can see past her masks now. 

For the first time since they’ve gotten together, she’s nervous before a job, not after. 

Still they can’t talk about it now, so Jughead just leans over, presses a kiss against her cheek, and says, “Whatever you want, baby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I completely failed at the whole fake dating trope. I'm a much bigger fan of real relationships. 
> 
> Grateful for any feedback!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for the wonderful feedback. 
> 
> I owe KittiLee so many thanks for being in my life in general, and also for for beta-ing this chapter.
> 
> Also you might have noticed the chapter count has gone up by one, but that should be it (no promises), and there's been a new set of relationship tags added, but they in no way interact with Bughead.

Fangs, Sweet Pea, and Jughead park around the corner from the Pembrooke, their bikes sticking out in a lot full of shiny luxury cars. 

Betty meets them on the corner. Pea wolf whistles at the sight of her, and it’s clear why. 

The version of Betty who is standing in the parking lot tonight is not any more beautiful than the one Jughead kissed last night, but she is more shiny, lips bright red, and long lashes a reflective black, even her cheeks glimmer a little, although he’s not sure why. 

She’s also more on display here. Her jeans are tighter and shinier too, and the top she’s wearing plunges in a way that exposes a lot of cleavage, but nothing scandalous. Jughead’s sure half the girls in the Lodge’s apartment will be wearing even less. 

Still, Jughead prefers the Betty without makeup. He likes the way her breasts look without a bra boosting them up and together, into a false and impossible kinship. Even if he’s only seen the real swing of them once or twice, that’s where the real beauty lies. 

But Betty’s looking at him expectantly so he plays into the moment, adding his own whistle to Pea’s and exclaiming, “You look gorgeous.”

Betty blushes, and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

“What no smooch for me?” Pea exclaims and fake pouts. Betty sends him a cool look, even though everyone knows it doesn’t bother her. This is teasing, pure and simple. 

They are all falling into roles already, the dynamics setting themselves up for what’s to come in the penthouse. 

Betty leads them to the Pembrooke. On their own they would surely be refused entrance, but with Betty leading the way, the porter opens the door for them silently, a half smile on his lips.

The elevator looks fancier than most of the earlier places they robbed. Everything is bolted down, although Fangs still jokingly tries to remove a decorative railing.

When the doors open on the top floor, there’s no hallway, just a crowded entry way full of people smoking. It reeks just the same way Fang's trailer does on Saturday nights. 

There’s a solid thump, thump, thump of bass that Jughead can feel more than hear as they enter, a loud cacophony of voices surround them.

Jughead had expected more people to notice their entrance. He thought Fangs, Sweet Pea and himself, would stand out in a sea of Northsiders, but no one seems to be paying any attention to them at all. 

Everyone is too caught up in their current conversations or the screen of their phones. 

Betty leads them deeper into the apartment. Because of their planning, (which was sadly binderless because of the short notice), Jughead knows that Hermonie’s out of town in New York, and that Hiram’s in Egypt, on some sort of business trip. 

Jughead knows how the apartment looks already. They’d broken into it to steal the Glamerge egg. Although last time they’d entered not through the fancy elevator, but from a rickety ladder propped up on the fire exit. A plan Jughead’s 100% sure Betty would not approve of.

Still the rooms seem different this time, mostly because before the apartment was empty and now it’s thrumming with bodies, every sofa covered and most of the floor too. 

“B!” someone shouts and Betty whirls towards the voice. 

It belongs to Veronica, someone Jughead’s never seen in person, but who manages to actually look like the selfies she regularly posts on Instagram. 

“V!” Betty responds, giving the glamorous girl a peck on the cheek.

Before this morning they weren't friends, hadn’t even spoken really. Betty might have originally said they were going to crash the party, but he suspects within minutes of saying that sentence out loud, she’d revised the plan. Party crashers stand out, even at a party this big. People with invitations do not. 

Earlier this morning, Betty had anonymously paid one very brave freshman 400 dollars to spill (not too hot) coffee on Veronica’s shirt on the way into school. Betty, naturally had a spare, chic shirt tucked into her backpack.

It’s a good thing Veronica has a long, well documented history of instant friendships. 

“This must be the boyfriend?” Veronica asks, raising an eyebrow at Jughead. He nods his acceptance at the label. 

“Thanks for inviting us.” Jughead manages to say.

“Of course, your girlfriend is my savior.” 

Jughead thinks lending a clean shirt is a pretty low bar for a savior, and if this wasn’t a job he’d probably say as much. Since it is a job he keeps his mouth shut.

“And who are these handsome guys?” Veronica asks, the gleam in her eye clearly conveying how much she meant the word handsome.

Betty smiles and then says “Fangs and Sweet Pea.”

“I’m not actually Sweet, darling,” Pea says.

“Even better,” Veronica replies, licking her lips. Again Jughead is a paragon of restraint and does not roll his eyes. 

After that things get easier. Veronica shows them to the drinks and even better, the food.

Veronica and Pea flirt unrepentantly. Fangs chats about motorcycle repairs to Betty, mostly to pass the time. It’s a conversation they’ve had a million times or more.

Jughead stuffs a few savory puffs that probably have a proper name, (just one that he doesn’t know), in his mouth, and then Betty presses a kiss against his neck.

It’s bold and surprising, even though it was planned. Still he manages to rearrange their bodies so he’s kissing her back, his lips hot against hers. 

“Get a room!” someone shouts, and Jughead flips them the bird automatically. He doesn’t shift his lips away from Betty, whose mouth opens slightly, allowing his tongue to enter.

Then Betty slowly pulls back, Jughead’s lips chasing hers for a moment longer than they should have.

When Betty had first come up with the kissing section of the plan Jughead had resisted. He’d protested that he hated PDA and when Sweet Pea had pointed out that he wishes Jughead had such reservations about kissing Betty in front of Pea and Fangs, Jughead had conceded the point.

Now it was clear that with Betty, it was easy to forget the circumstances of the kiss, when the most important factor was the person he was kissing.

“You two should really get a room,” Veronica says. “And lucky for you I have one just down the hall.”

Jughead wraps an arm around Betty’s waist, as Betty says “No, we really shouldn’t. I’m sorry V, I know this was supposed to be girl time.”

Veronica laughs, and it’s surprisingly genuine, “Don’t worry about it, really.” She points down the hallway and says, “Third door down on the left.”

They couldn’t have asked for a more perfect room. It’s the guest bedroom nearest Hermione’s office.

Betty blushes, cheeks red and shiny as she whispers a quiet "Thank you." Then, before she has time to draw this moment out any longer, Jughead pulls her down the hallway.

“It’s so embarrassing, they’re always like that,” Pea says, loud enough for Jughead to hear, even over the roar of the room. 

Jughead thinks Pea’s laying it on a little thick, but Veronica just laughs, and says, “I’m actually a big fan of PDA.” 

Jughead glances back in time to see Pea take that hint and run with it. Jughead turns the corner, Betty close behind him, her hand still held by his. 

It’s easy to find the right door, which is not the third door down on the left, but the fifth. 

This door is locked of course. Veronica’s hosted enough parties not to make that rookie mistake. Jughead’s grateful for Betty’s lock picking skills. She makes it seem so easy. He's tried to pick a few doors now, and he knows it’s not.

Jughead loves how Betty can go from casual conversation, to kissing, to all business in minutes. While waiting for the homeowners to leave the house once, Betty completed a homework assignment, from their stakeout position in an abandoned treehouse. Jughead was to on edge to take his eyes off the back door.

The door opens silently to reveal a room that looks more like a modern art gallery than an office. The decor is sparse and the concept is open. The walls are hung with bright abstract paintings. There’s a desk and two black leather chairs, but frankly, not much else. Jughead always likes it when there is a neon sign that says - “secret plans in here”. 

Jughead knows they are on camera. When they’d stolen the Glamerge egg they’d all worn masks but that was hardly possible this time around. 

If this plan was to work after all, their identities would not have to remain a secret. Sure it would anger the Lodges, but Jughead could live with that.

Betty finds a closet right away to look through and Jughead focuses on the desk. They work quickly but fruitlessly. There is no obvious paperwork related to the food bank takeover or anything else nefarious that they could use as blackmail. 

Betty starts checking behind the paintings next. Jughead gets down on the ground and looks up at the underside of the chair, it’s a long shot, and the first one is just a little dusty. The second one looks equally boring, but a little bit bumpier than the first.

“Do you have a knife?” Jughead asks.

“No, you’re the Southsider,” Betty quips. 

She grabs scissors from the desk and brings them over to him. He uses the scissors to cut the leather lining the underside of the chair, a file falls out. 

Jughead knows right away that what they found has nothing to do with the foodbank, it’s nothing he’s ever wanted to see either - a whole lot of Hiram’s naked body interacting with more than one female naked body - but it will work perfectly for what they intend to achieve. 

“Jackpot!” Betty remarks. 

“Awkward-pot more like it,” Jughead says, stuffing the images back into the file and trying not to look too long at any of them. Still, he sees and cannot unsee an image of Hiram’s backside that he’d rather not. Although it is kind of amusing to discover the mob boss has a monarch butterfly on his left butt cheek. 

Jughead takes off his jacket and Betty slips the whole file into the pocket she created in the lining. It’s a tight fit, and when he puts it back on, the jacket feels stiff and awkward, although Betty assures him that it looks the same.

“Can we go now?” he asks.

Betty shakes her head. “We do not look like we’ve been making out.”

Oh, Jughead thinks, and that’s the last coherent thought he has for a while because Betty is pressing her lips against his and he’s pressing back. At some point his hand slips up into her bra and presses against her breast.

She lets out a soft moan and then, slowly pulls back. Her face is pink, her lips particularly so. Her formerly organized hair is now disheveled (he must do more hair pulling than he thought).

“We’re good now,” Betty says matter of factly. Then she presses one more lingering kiss against his lips, before they both slip out of the room.

In their absence, the party has grown louder and the members are more drunk. Fangs is lounging on the couch talking to some guy Jughead vaguely recognises, and Veronica and Pea must have gotten a room at some point, because they’re nowhere to be seen. 

Fangs sits up straight on the sofa once he spots Betty and Jug, and they move into the space he opens up for them. It’s a tight squeeze, but they end up fitting. Jughead’s careful not to lean back. He doesn’t want the photos to be damaged too much by his poor posture.

“What’s up?” Fangs asks, one eyebrow slightly raised. 

“Nothing much,” Jughead answers, which is their pre-arranged code for - it was a complete success. 

“If you’re going to get your lady to stay, ‘Nothing much’, ain't going to cut it.” Fangs wiggles his eyebrows when he says that and Jughead doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or disappear, because half of the bulldogs heard that, and they are all cackling.  
Betty’s blush is pinker than he thought possible. 

“Where’s Pea?” Betty asks. 

“You know, around.” Fangs shrugs. “Been gone for about 10 minutes now.” 

The timeline helps a little, but not much.

Jughead would love to leave right now, but it’s not the time. Because the gang entered together, they have to leave together. It’s their rule, at all their jobs. Even though this is different than their usual breaking and entering, Jughead feels like they should stick with the plan, no matter how nervous the jacket full of blackmail material makes him.

He finds himself wondering why Hermione has these photos. It seems so strange to him that she wouldn’t leave Hiram over them, but then Jughead realizes she must be blackmailing him herself. 

Maybe that’s how she ended up with the foodbank job, Jughead thinks, and has to force himself not to laugh at the irony in that. 

“Jughead?” A voice exclaims, and Jughead looks up to see Archie standing there. Hair red like always, face a little more flush than usual, a hickey on his neck. Archie has clearly been up to mischief, of more than one kind, if the whisky Jughead could smell on his breath was anything to go by.

“Hey Arch,” Jughead manages to say. He tries to keep his tone calm and casual. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here with Betty.” Jughead offers up with a shrug. It conveys a level of aloofness that doesn’t actually match his feelings. 

For such a long time Archie had been like a brother to him. For Archie to look at Jughead as if he was scum now just because he attended a different school now, felt absurd. Yet Archie was behaving like it was the only rational reaction.

“What are you even doing here Betty?” Archie asks. “This isn’t your scene at all.” 

Betty rolls her eyes and for a second Jughead thinks she’s going to give Archie a sarcastic answer instead she says “Veronica and I are friends now.”

“Since when?” Archie scoffs. “I don’t remember seeing you two hang out at all when we were dating.”

“Since this morning,” Veronica says. Jughead can’t see her, she must be directly behind Archie, but he can certainly hear the chill in her voice. 

Archie turns to see Veronica, and when his body shifts position, Jughead can also see her clearly. Pea’s arm is definitively wrapped around Veronica, and Veronica leans into Pea. It’s kind of a funny sight actually because of the height difference.

Archie can’t seem to decide if he wants to glare at Pea or Veronica, he keeps switching between them. 

Jughead’s sure Archie’s about to say something they all don’t want to hear when the fire alarm goes off. 

There are flashing lights and a loud ringing sound, and on top of that everyone in the apartment is dashing towards the exits as if their life depends on it, alcohol splashing as they go. 

Veronica and Betty are in front of them on the stairs. Veronica’s leaning heavily on the railing because of her high heels, but both are steady in their descent. Jughead can see that they are talking, but he can’t hear what they are saying over the noise of the crowd, and the screeching of the alarm.

“What happened?” Jug whispers to Fangs as they stampede down the stairs, the elevators automatically locked down because of the alarm.

This wasn’t in the plan, but fire was always Fangs default escape plan. 

“Sink fire. It took fucking forever to trip the alarm,” Fangs whispers back, although it’s too loud around them, to really require carefulness.

“Good man,” Jughead said, slapping him on the shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So grateful for feedback <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay! I'm grateful for everyone who stuck through these very slow updates! 
> 
> Thank you for your kind comments.
> 
> This final chapter is un-beta-ed. KittiLee (who is my forever hero!) is very busy right now creating the most incredible things and Mr. Darkness said he'd beta but then got distracted by other stories I have written on Ao3 ("I can't believe you put THAT in a fic!")
> 
> So this is just me reviewing it three or four times in my normal exhausted mom mode. 
> 
> I'm wishing everyone a very happy holidays! My secret Santa fic is all finished and I couldn't be happier with it.

Jughead’s plan was to head straight to Pea’s trailer. It’s tradition. Besides, the lining of Jughead’s jacket is full of sensitive blackmail material.

Unfortunately by the time he and Fangs have reached the ground level, Veronica, and Pea have strong-armed Betty into agreeing to go to a speakeasy, with them. 

Fangs as usual was a pushover, he always was when alcohol was involved, and Jughead didn’t want to head home alone. They had post heist traditions, damn-itm and Veronica was messing with all that. 

Besides, who commits a crime, and then is stupid enough to go out for drinks with the daughter of the person they’ve stolen from and actively plan to blackmail?

It is Pea’s behavior, all smitten and aroused that is dragging the rest of them into this.

Jughead’s seen Pea fall for women before, and it’s always like this - hard and fast and messy. But never before has it happened during a robbery. 

When Jughead tried pointing out that Veronica at least should stick around to talk to Emergency Services, she’d declared “I have people for that.”

Now Jughead is begrudgingly following Veronica’s Porsche on his motorcycle till she stops right outside Pop’s. 

Jughead is a little surprised. There’s nothing around Pop’s except the parking lot, forest, and road. 

It turns out that the speakeasy is named La Bonne Nuit, and it is in fact in the basement of Pop’s. As Veronica leads them down the hidden stairs Jughead can’t help but be impressed, not by the fancy overhead lights, or the music that was now faintly reaching his ears, but the fact that the speakeasies remained hidden from him for all the years.

Not that long ago, Jughead had slept for a week in one of the booths upstairs because Gladys needed a cooling off period. He hadn’t suspected anything was amiss at the time.

La Bonne Nuit is packed with the evacuees from Veronica’s penthouse party. Jughead’s a little unsure of how the former partygoers got here, because they are all still drunk. 

Veronica leads them through the staggering crowds to a booth in the back that has a sign resting on the table that says “reserved for management.”

“I own Le Bonne Nuit.” Veronica says dismissively, gliding into the leather backed booth.

“Impressive,” Pea says. There’s not a hint of sarcasm in his tone or a sharp jab involving where exactly the money to own it has come from, and Jughead finds that alarming.

Drinks appear at the table without them ordering anything. 

The drinks look like tea in fancy porcelain cups. Jughead takes a tentative sip only to discover that it is actually tea, something strong and dark, with a lot of whisky and a dollop of honey in it. 

Betty takes one polite sip, and then places a hand on Jughead’s thigh. It’s comforting knowing that she’s there, in this crowded and dark room, where he feels very much out of his depth, even though he’s just feet away from one of the most comforting spaces he’s ever been in. 

“What’s the Southside actually like?” Veronica says.

Jughead’s caught off guard by the question. 

“Haven’t you been there?” Fangs asks. He’s leaning back against the back of the booth, his cup drained, just a few tea leaves stuck to the bottom.

Veronica shakes her head and then says “Why would I? I mean there’s nothing there.”

Jughead thinks of the quarry he’s spent most summers at and the community center with the library tucked into the back with a good view of Fox Forrest, of the trailer park he’s spent his whole life in, and imagines them being nothing in someone else's life.

“Why are you curious now then?” Betty asks. 

“My mother’s taking over the food bank there, they’re drowning in debt and desperate for new funds and someone had to take responsibility.” 

Jughead can see the expression of horror on Pea’s face clearly. Underneath the table Fangs kicks Jughead’s ankle.

Veronica appears to be oblivious to all this and instead says “I’m just worried for my mother’s safety.”

Jughead has to admit that her mother’s safety is in fact a legitimate concern, considering how much venom he’s feeling towards the Lodges right now 

“I spend a lot of time on the Southside,” Betty says. She’s the only one calm enough to speak apparently. “I’ve never had any problems.” 

“That’s reassuring.” Veronica says, lifting her tea cup just so, and taking a delicate sip.

It’s strange to know for certain now, how oblivious Veronica is about the reality of the situation. How simplified her version of life is compared to theirs. 

There is a part of Jughead, the brash and outlandish part, that wants to rip the lining of his jacket and make it clear to Veronica just how terrible her parents are. 

Not that it would work, really. Even if she was shown the truth Veronica would probably be like most people and stick with the reality she knows. 

Jughead expects things to devolve into awkward silence and seething from the Southside contingent, but somehow Veronica drags them all into playing a surprisingly entertaining version of never have I ever, and by the time Jughead leaves he’s feeling more charitable towards Veronica. He’s also feeling a little tipsy. 

Jughead sleeps it off on Pea’s sofa and in the morning he wakes to Betty entering the trailer with a tray full of to-go coffees. Her hair is pulled back in a tight ponytail, but her eyes look tired. Jughead’s sure she didn’t sleep much either.

Jughead kisses her in spite of his morning breath and then steals one of the cups.

Pea joins them a few minutes later, groaning “I can’t believe I didn’t get laid last night.” while relieving Betty of one of the togo cups.

“You would sleep with the enemy?” Jughead says. 

Pea shrugs his shoulders “Why not? It’s just sex.”

Jughead shakes his head. There’s no just sex in his limited experience, but that’s not true for Pea, and a judgmental comment is not going to change that. 

Fangs arrives a few minutes later, looking surprisingly alert for someone who got no more sleep than the rest of them last night. 

“Should we give Hermione a call?” Fangs asks, cutting straight to business.

Betty puts down her coffee and smirks “I thought a road trip would be more effective.”

It’s actually less of a road trip and more of a train trip. Finding parking in the city is a pain in the ass. Besides Jughead really hates taking the motorcycle on the highway, it feels unrelenting.

So they take the metro-north down instead. 

Jughead’s a little unsure about confronting Hermonie in person. He’s worried they are giving too much away by revealing their faces and their youth, but Betty thinks it will make it clear just how lax the Lodge’s security is. 

Also in all likelihood Hermoine will believe that they aren't actually the criminal masterminds behind what happened. She will just assume that someone older and wiser is pulling their strings.

In person the threat will feel more real, more intimate, and as Pea put it, more satisfying. 

Still the thought of confronting Hermoine keeps Jughead awake and alert on the train, staring out the window as they pass by small town after small town. 

Everyone else has fallen asleep. Betty’s head is in his lap. She looks so young and vulnerable there. He wants to keep her safe but also kiss her. 

Pea and Fangs are more amusing in their sleep, Fang's head hangs back at an odd angle, his mouth wide open as if daring someone to put something in it. 

Jughead wakes them up in Harlem, and they exit groggily in Grand Central.

Betty is able to track Hermonie through her frequently updated Instagram stories. Because of the app Jughead knows that Heromonie is obsessed with tomato jam and just purchased a purse that costs more than Gladys’ trailer. 

They also know she’s lunching at Cafe Sabarsky, which is according to Betty on the upper east side in the Neue Galerie. 

They take the subway up and then linger across the street from the museum in the park. Betty’s more focused on her phone than anything else, while Jughead tries to keep his eyes trained on the stone building across the street. It looks kind of nondescript for a museum.

Fangs and Pea are bickering about football (or soccer, Jughead’s really not sure), but they are managing to maintain a less than shouting level of communication. 

Betty shoves her phone into Jughead’s face and he sees for a split second a picture of a giant pile of whip cream. 

“So?” Jughead says, shrugging his shoulders.

“Desert means she’s almost out,” Betty says.

“Thank fucking goodness.” Pea says, as if they’ve been here for hours instead of twenty minutes or so. 

“I should disappear,” Betty says, pressing a swift kiss against his lips. 

Jughead wishes he had the time to draw her in closer, to really enjoy the moment. Still he’s grateful that Betty’s sitting the next part of the plan out. It seems important that Hermonie doesn’t meet Veronica’s current BFF under these circumstances. 

“Where are you going to go?” Jughead asks, even though Betty’s already heading deeper into the park. 

She turns back around and says “I’ll feed the ducks or something.”

“Don’t feed them bread.” Fangs shouts at Betty’s retreating back,

“She definitely knows that.” Jughead says, although he’s sure she’s not actually going to feed any ducks. 

“Why not? Ducks like bread. I feed them bread all the time.” Pea says. 

Across the street Hermone exits the museum, she’s walking impossibly fast on stilettos on the sidewalk that runs parallel to the park, although she sticks to the building side of the street. 

If Jughead didn’t know better from this distance he’d assume she was their age. 

“We’ve got to go.” Jughead says, only then realizing that Pea and Fangs are already walking swiftly through the trees in front of them. 

“How long are we going to follow her?” Fangs asks.

“To the next stoplight?” Jughead says. They should be able to cross to her side of the street before the light on her side changes.

They’re lucky that it’s not crowded right now. Only one or two other people are visible in the distance.

“Good.” Pea huffs. They are all going pretty fast now. Yet there’s no chance Hermonie spots them because she keeps walking quickly and with purpose, eyes glued to an invisible point in front of her. 

Jughead can’t believe they are doing this. He’s used to the shadows, to anonymity and thousand dollars hauls, not blackmail and broad daylight. 

The light changes right as Hermonie approaches the intersection, from the man to the hand. 

All three of them cross the street at a slow and measured pace, although Jughead’s pretty sure the sweat on his brow, and the deep breaths Fangs is making gives them away a bit.

Hermonie glances their way and then refocuses on the light. When the man appears they all cross the intersection together. 

Then as planned Fangs says “Hey, Isn’t that Mrs Lodge?”

Hermonie turns towards them, a surprised look on her face. “Who are you?” She asks.

Her eyes are scanning them as if she looks long enough she’ll recognize them. Jughead knows she won’t. She’s the only one whose newsworthy and easy to look up on the internet. They’re just anonymous kids. 

“We have something of yours,” Fangs says. 

Hermonie raises one very plucked eyebrow and says “What exactly?”

Jughead awkwardly pulls an envelope from his backpack. He doesn’t have all the photos on him. He’s not that stupid, but the three photos they have, should be enough to persuade her to give into demands.

She grabs the envelope from him and when she pulls the first one out, her jaw twitches. Her reaction to the next too, is unremarkable. She must have nerves of steel. 

“You have the rest, I presume?” Hermonie asks. 

Jughead nods.

“And what do you want of me?” 

“We want you out of the Southside, bitch,” Pea says.

“No need to swear.” Hermonie shrugs and hands the photos back. “I didn’t want to go into that particularly hell hole anyways.”

“Then why were you going to take over the foodbank?” Jughead asks. He probably shouldn’t. After all she’s already agreed to comply with their request. 

“Hiram asked me too.” Hermonie said with a shrug, “But I’ll tell him about this little, um, meeting, and it will be water under the bridge. Who cares about few hundred thousand, anyways?”

Fangs mutters something under his breath that Jughead doesn’t quite catch, but he agrees with the sentiment. Even after robbing all these houses, he’s never ever had more than a couple hundred dollars to his name, and usually a lot less than that. 

Hermonie glances at her watch and then looks back at them and says “This has been fun boys, but I have an actual appointment to get to. Are we done here?”

“Sure.” Fangs manages to say, before Hermonie marches past them.

It’s strange because even though they got their way, Jughead doesn’t feel like they won. It’s the most unsatisfying victory he’s ever experienced. 

“What a fucking bitch,” Pea says on the way back. “She’s so full of herself.”

“And Veronica isn’t?” Fangs points out. 

Pea doesn’t even retort, which makes it pretty clear how awful the whole situation is. 

When they arrive where Betty is at the Alice in Wonderland statue Jughead truly feels despondent. He must look it too, because Betty runs over to them, and says “What went wrong?”

It’s clear by the way she’s biting her lip that she’s assuming the worst.

“Technically nothing.” Jughead said.

“These are our victory faces.” Pea jokes, the corners of his mouth being forced up into a distorted version of a smile. 

“She didn’t care about the job, in the first place.” Fangs said. “Honestly she seemed happy to have a reason to walk away.”

“But she did walk away?” Betty asks. “The food bank is actually safe.”

“Yeah.” Fangs sighs. 

Betty punches his arms lightly “Don’t sigh. We won!”

“It doesn’t feel like that,” Jughead said. “She acted like all that money we’ve made for the food bank was nothing in the scheme of things.”

“So,” Betty shrugs. “She was probably putting on a brave face, and even if she wasn’t who cares, because the money’s safe.”

“I guess,” Fangs says. 

Betty rolls her eyes but she’s clearly had enough of their sour moods. 

“Let’s celebrate!” she declares.

“By doing what? Going to a five star restaurant or a snobby museum?” Fangs jokes.

“No. Fries, then dumplings, then bibimbap.” 

Betty has such a hopeful smile on her face that Jughead can’t possibly turn her down. Even though fries don’t sound that great at the moment. 

Thirty minutes later dipping his fries into pomegranate teriyaki sauce, Jughead has to admit he felt better. It helped that the storefront where they purchased the fries, was in an area where people didn’t carry thousand dollar bags, or at least not as many people did. 

It is crowded where they were eating outside, lots of college age people are walking by and talking. It feels real here. There’s garbage on the streets for goodness sake.

“These taste even better than Pop’s.” Fangs says,

“Sacrilege” Pea murmurs under his breath. 

Jughead rolls his eyes and asks Betty how she learned about this place. He can’t imagine Alice taking her here, or even Hal. 

“I used to come to the city on the weekends a lot. It was a way to kill time. Be less lonely.” Betty says the sentence with a shrug before popping a fry into her mouth. She doesn’t seem upset when she says it, but Jughead feels upset that it happened. 

He doesn’t think about the years where he wasn’t friends with Betty much anymore. Now that she’s back in his life, he finds it even harder to understand his past self motives. But he also can’t ignore the reality that those years existed. 

Jughead had thought of Betty during their time apart, of course, but he had imagined her reality differently. In his mind her friendship with Archie was going strong and she’d become a cheerleader.

His imaginary Betty would sip from a red plastic cup poolside, while a bunch of drunk northsiders partied around her, she didn’t take the metro north to the city all on her own to kill time.

“What else did you do when you came in?” Fangs asks.

“Long walks through neighborhoods, some window shopping, even the occasional museum visit, and I went to the movies a lot.” Betty says.

“You can see the movies in Riverdale.”

“There are nicer theaters here.” Betty points out, and then adds “In Riverdale people noticed me going alone. There was pity, here I could just enjoy the show.”

Jughead understands that. In Riverdale anonymity is a myth. He likes to pretend it exists in Pop’s, but that’s not how it actually works. Here though, no one knows their names. They aren't southsiders and potential criminals (ok, actual criminals), they’re just people. 

They finish their fries, and Jughead gets coffee and then they wander around. There are actual cobblestone streets, and an elevated park. There’s a neighborhood that looks like a movie set, and another that seems to belong on a different planet. 

They carefully consume soup dumplings, and eat BeBimBop out of stone bowls. 

Betty falls asleep first on the train. Jughead expects Pea and Fangs to tease him about her former life of loneliness, but instead they all get caught up in a discussion of when they are going to visit the city again.

The train passes by dozens of small towns before it stops at Riverdale.

Jughead walks Betty back from the train station, her body still too close to sleep to trust on a bike. 

“I love you.” Jughead says, instead of goodbye. He presses his lips to hers so she doesn’t have to say it back right away. He wants her to know that he loves her no matter what, even if she doesn’t love him back yet, or is simply not ready to put it into words.

The kiss is warm, a press of Jughead’s lips, followed by a press back from Betty’s. There’s the occasional hint of tongue.

Then Betty pulls back, her lips only inches from Jugheads, and says “I love you,” before returning to the kiss as if it never ended in the first place, as if it was just a momentary pause.

“I’m not that drunk,” A voice shouts from the house. Jughead knows it must be Alice, even though her voice sounds hoarser than it once did. He doesn’t know if the shout is intended for them, for someone else entirely, or for Alice herself, but they pull apart, both breathing heavy.

Jughead can’t help but notice how red Betty’s upper lip is, how flushed her cheeks are.

“I should probably go inside.” Betty says. 

Jughead wants to say, “Just come home with me,” but instead he says, “Goodnight, I love you.” and presses one more kiss against her lips, still warm from the earlier kissing.

“I love you too,” she says as he turns towards the street. 

It’s a short walk back to the train station and then a long bike ride home, but every moment feels illuminated by love, by the feeling of joy bubbling through his bloodstream.

The next morning at school Pea ribs Jughead about glowing, and Jughead doesn’t even bother to tease back. 

Jughead calls the foodbank at lunchtime, and the bored sounding employee on desk duty tells him that Hermoine’s unexpectedly resigned from her upcoming position. Only then does their victory finally starts to settle in and feel real. 

He assumes that after all that, and just because of her history of behavior, Veronica will drop Betty’s friendship like a tinder hookup

Yet everyday Betty mentions Veronica this, or Veronica that, and Jughead starts to feel gratitude that Betty finally has a friend at school, even though there’s always a small part of him that worries Betty is going to be hurt by Veronica. 

A month later, the day before they plan to pull off their next job, Betty drags Jughead, Fangs and Pea to La Bonne Nuit with her. 

Veronica’s waiting for them in the same booth when they arrive. She’s smiling like the Cheshire cat. Teeth a brilliant whie, lips gleaming with something shiny. 

There’s a teapot already on the table, and a row of empty cups.

Pea’s silent as he slides into the booth across from Veronica. They haven’t talked since the party, and Jughead can feel the tension in the air between them. 

He knows from Betty that Veronica’s been asking about Pea all month long, but whenever Betty brings it up to Pea, Pea shrugs and says something like “Her mother would recognize me, and we don’t want to stir up that shit again,” or “It was just a fucking fling, drop it ponytail.”

If it were actually a fling, Pea wouldn’t have reacted like that of course, but they are all smart enough to avoid that awkward conversation. 

“The vanishing man returns.” Veronica says her smile reduced to a thin line.

“Sorry.” Pea shrugs, “Can you forgive me?”

Sarcasm is rife in the way he says the statement, tone thick with mocking, eyebrow raised, body leaning back into the plush booth, arms resting lazily on the top. 

Jughead half expects Veronica to slap him in reaction, instead she leans forward on the table, careful not to jostle the tea cup and says, “Of course, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

Pea startles upright, his back straight as a recruit in a military poster.

“What did you say?”

“Any friend of Betty’s is a friend of mine,” Veronica says, with a wink, but everyone at the table heard what she said first.

Jughead glances at Betty, whose look of shock probably mirrors her own. This is a surprise for her as well. 

“How’d you know?” Jughead asks even though he half expects Veronica to dodge the question. 

Veronica’s eyes gleam with joy as she says “I found out Betty bribed a freshman and I followed the trail from there.”

“Impressive,” Betty says, a smile Jughead knows to be genuine is on her face. “What exactly is your proposition?” 

Veronica’s returning smile is just as genuine, “I thought your merry band could use just one more member.”

Before anyone can say yes, Pea leans across the table and kisses Veronica. 

“Gross,” Jughead comments a minute later, when Pea and Veronica have still not stopped.

“You are in no position to judge,” Fangs says, “I am though. Cut it out you two.”

Veronica pulls back first “Let’s get out of here.”

“Lets,” Sweet Pea says

“Don’t we have details to sort out?” Jughead asks. 

“I remember my vetting process being much more thorough,” Betty says.

Pea shrugs his shoulders, then says “Too bad, so sad.” 

He and Veronica leave the booth and then the speakeasy together. When Jughead glances back at Betty, she’s already getting up. 

“Leaving already?” Fangs asks. 

Betty’s smile is bright and sneaky when she answers “We have better things to do.”

Jughead gets out of the booth after her, and grabs her hand as she charges up the stairs.

He can’t help but hear Fangs say behind him “Why am I the only single one?”

Jughead doesn’t bother with a retort, after all he has much better things to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Comments are always appreciated. Kudos too <3

**Author's Note:**

> Always grateful for comments. Always grateful for readers.


End file.
